What really hurt was knowing her fear was for him, not herself. He sighed. “You know I’ll watch over you.” Her cap had slipped back from her face, freeing a mass of her thick hair. He brushed the tangled strands away from her forehead and dropped a light kiss amid the curls. “You have to rest. If you don’t recharge, we can’t go after him. I need you, Willow. I can’t fight him on my own. Just a little longer. Close your eyes.” He pulled the cap back into position and tucked the escaping strands beneath the soft knit.
She glanced at him with eyes of midnight blue. “I’m trying, but it’s hard. Now that I know how dangerous he can be ... what if he hurts you again? What if ... ?”
“He won’t. Trust me. Now that I know what he’s capable of, I’ll be extra careful.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ll watch over you, Willow. So will Bumper. I promise we won’t let him near.”
I’m awake, Willow. I’m listening. You can sleep. Taron’s right. We’ll stand watch.
Willow tilted her chin and gazed into his eyes. “I do trust you, Taron.” She sighed. “And you, too, Bumper. Okay. For a few minutes.”
She snuggled close, and in less than a minute he felt her tense muscles relax and heard the steady cadence of her breathing. Healing him had taken a huge toll on her reserves. He hadn’t realized how much until they’d started up the hill after the demon king and Willow’d been stumbling over her own feet from exhaustion.
She wasn’t going to tell him. He’d been angry at her, at the foolish decisions she made, and then he realized she might not have even known how exhausted she was. She was like a tiny child in so many ways, still learning how this body worked.
He wanted her to have this form forever, to grow comfortable in her woman’s skin. He wanted her safe and the demon gone. He had no idea how long it was going to take her to regain her strength, but he hadn’t been kidding—he needed Willow beside him if he hoped for any chance at all against the demon. His crystal sword—attitude included—wasn’t enough on its own to overpower the demon king. It was going to take the three of them, working together. Four, if he counted Bumper, and it was impossible to discount the dog. So, four of them, and a whole lot of luck.
Holding Willow close, Taron stared at the lightning flickering in the distance and thought of the last few days. He’d lived more, experienced more since stepping through the portal into Earth’s dimension less than three days ago than in all his years prior.
He didn’t want what he’d found here, in this dimension, to end. No. Somehow, he and Willow had to come through this alive, not only to protect their friends and the innocent inhabitants of Earth and Lemuria and even of Eden, but because he was selfish enough to want time with Willow. A chance to experience love, to finally live after so many years of merely existing.
He glanced overhead at the pale moonlight filtering through the clouds. The storm was moving in, the clouds and the flickering lightning covering the entire western horizon. They were protected here in this tumble of boulders, hidden from the wind on two sides with a view toward the hillside above, but if it started raining again, they were going to end up getting soaked.
It was hard to judge how much time they had before the storm hit. The clouds were to the south and the wind coming out of the north—by all rights, the storm should be moving away from them. Taron had been watching the flashes of lightning for the past twenty minutes or so since they’d taken shelter amid this small pile of boulders. The huge thunderheads and the lightning were definitely coming closer, moving against the wind.
They had no storms in Lemuria—not deep within the volcano—but Taron remembered weather from his childhood. Remembered watching the clouds boiling across the rising waves and rushing toward their home by the sea.
Clouds moved with the wind. The wind brought the storms, and when it blew offshore, it blew the storms out to sea.
This was wrong. Entirely against the laws of nature. If the demon king had enough power to control the weather, he and Willow were in a lot more trouble than he’d feared. He’d been hoping the gods-be-damned demon was running out of energy—those blasts of power had to have taken something out of the creature. Unless ... he stared at the storm, at the jagged streaks of lightning cutting through the clouds.
What if ... ? No. If the demon king were able to draw power from the lightning, he and Willow didn’t have a prayer.
Nine hells and then some.
How were they going to fight this thing? He leaned his head against the rock behind him, but the scabbard strapped across his back made for an uncomfortable pillow.
The damned blade was an even more uncomfortable comrade in arms. What a joke! He and CrystalFire needed to work out their issues before the next fight with the demon, or there’d be no chance of surviving the coming battle.
Carefully, without waking Willow, Taron slipped CrystalFire from his scabbard and lay the sword on the ground beside his outstretched legs.
CrystalFire? No light. Keep it dark and quiet. We need to talk.
I’m listening.
The blade remained dark, but the familiar voice was perfectly clear. And, so far at least, without attitude.
I need some information from you.
Pale light rippled the length of the blade.
Do you know if the demon can control the weather? Can he call the storm closer, maybe draw power from the lightning?
A flash of silver, barely visible in the darkness, pulsed along the blade.
I’ve not heard of such a thing. The Dark Lord has some control of the weather, but he remains in Abyss. If this demon can bring the lightning near, he wields unfamiliar powers.
Can you sense where he is right now?
He is on the flank of the hill above us, attempting to enter the vortex. For some reason, the gateway is closed to him.
Does he have the power to create a new one?
Possibly. When he controls his anger. He is furious, railing against the Dark Lord as well as cursing you and Willow.
Great. Just what we need, get him pissed off more than he already is. Why do you think the portal is closed?
The glow dimmed and then began to race up and down the blade, a pale indication of the entity’s thoughts. Taron waited for what felt like forever before CrystalFire spoke again. His voice was hesitant. The attitude was gone entirely—Taron was sure he sensed the entity’s uncertainty.
Something has changed. Very unexpected ... very. It appears fate demands a final battle without interference. A contest between Abyss and Lemuria, to take place here, tonight. You are the chosen one, the champion who will stand for Lemuria. You and Willow, and, it appears, me.
Taron wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly.
What do you mean, we’re the champions? Champions of what?
The blade pulsed, though he kept the glow very pale. Taron waited. He wasn’t sure if CrystalFire was thinking or maybe trying to connect with other blades. Willow slept beside him, her body a warm and living presence. The storm slowly drew closer. The continuous yet still distant rumble of thunder was like the roar of waves crashing against the shore.
Taron’s anxiety levels ramped up another notch or three. He stared at the sword, and waited.
Finally the pulsing ceased.
I have reached EarthFire, the sword of Darius of Kronus. They are still near the ocean—Darius, Mari, and her parents. Their vehicle refuses to start and the road is blocked on either side, preventing their escape.
Taron swallowed back a curse.
Alton told me Mari can use magic to move from one place to another. Any way they can spell themselves here? We could use the help.
I asked. Mari’s magic is not working. Some things are inevitable. This battle is one of them. Only the outcome is subject to change, and that will depend on our ability to best the demon king. We must fight alone, without aid from others.
Taron stared at the softly shimmering blade for a long, silent moment. How had it come to this, that he should be the one to fight the demon? He had no real experience in battle. He was not a highly skilled warrior. He was an average guy, a man who loved learning. A man who’d hardly tasted what life had to offer.
He tightened his arm around Willow and realized that there were times a man had to face things whether he was ready or not, but it never hurt to be as prepared as he could possibly make himself.
One of his greatest weaknesses was the blade lying on the ground beside him.
CrystalFire? I have no idea what your problems with me are, but there’s no time for personal issues, not with so much at stake. You and I must function as a team if we’re to have any chance at success. Will you work with me? I cannot hope to win a battle carrying a weapon I don’t trust. One that doesn’t trust me.
The blade dimmed, went entirely dark, and Taron held his breath. Then a shaft of blue light ran the length of the blade.
It is not easy for me to admit I was wrong, Taron of Libernus. I was. I beg your forgiveness. I was holding you, a scholar, to an unrealistic standard. You have shown nothing but bravery in every conflict. My words to you earlier were without merit. I was unfair.
No snark, no attitude. Just a very sincere apology. Taron took a deep breath, let it out slowly.
Thank you,
he said. And though his mind was filled with questions, he put them behind him. There was too much at stake, and too little time left.
What can we do to insure that we are victorious in this final battle?
Fight with only one acceptable outcome—winning. Once Willow is rested, we hunt. Listen carefully—you should be able to hear the demon who would be king. He’s on the hill above and to the south of us, cursing the failed portal into the vortex.
Taron listened, and he realized the sound he heard wasn’t the wind, it was the steady litany of curses as the demon tried to reopen the portal. Now would be the time to attack, while his attention was focused on the solid rock in front of him.
Willow stirred. She raised her head, blinking. He knew the moment she came fully awake by the soft smile on her lips. “I slept,” she said. “I didn’t think I would.” She arched her back and rubbed her face against his shoulder.
And then she looked at him with such a powerful sense of trust in her eyes that something inside Taron seemed to splinter and break free. The sensation was so precise he paused a moment to dissect it, but it made no sense. The only thing in his life that did make sense right now was the woman beside him, the one smiling at him as if he’d hung the stars.
“I’m glad you got some rest.” How did he tell her that his fear had fled? That the anxiety that had been a constant companion ever since the demon’s attack, was gone? He was ready. Willow was awake, she looked rested, and it was time.
In a minute.
He pulled Willow into his lap, held her close, and kissed her. Her lips were cool against his, but they quickly warmed as the kiss deepened. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she turned and pressed her body against his.
Fat raindrops fell, spattering against the rocks around them. CrystalFire flashed. Together, Taron and Willow ended the kiss. Her eyes were huge blue pools when she slipped out of his lap and stood beside him.
Taron wrapped his fingers around the silver pommel, stood up, and carefully sheathed his blade. He brushed his hand over Willow’s black cap and cupped the side of her face in his palm. “Are you ready?”
She shrugged and smiled at him. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” She glanced at his shoulder, at the huge burn through the leather and his exposed but healed wound, and then her gaze slid to his right shoulder and the hilt of his sword protruding above his scabbard.
Obviously she wondered—and worried—about his blade.
He reached back and caressed the jeweled hilt. “CrystalFire appears to have misjudged me.” He winked at Willow. “It seems I’m not a coward after all.”
She laughed, and then slapped her hand over her mouth to hide the sound. “You never were, Taron. Never will be. I’m glad your blade finally figured that out.”
“So am I. He apologized like a true gentleman.”
She opened her mouth to reply. Rocks clattered up ahead, near the spot where the portal had been. Willow clamped her jaws shut and her eyes went wide.
Taron stared in the direction of the noise. There was no doubt the demon was close. Just as obvious he was locked out of the portal, or he’d be gone by now. It wasn’t merely his escape to Abyss—it was their link to Lemuria, to the other demonslayers who might have been able to help them.
Except the combatants had already been determined by fate. He thought of telling Willow what he’d learned, but decided against it. There was no need to frighten her further about something that could not be changed. It was what it was, and they were as ready as they could hope to be.
The wind shifted, and the scent of sulfur drifted around them before it dissipated and was gone. Taron stared toward the portal, listening carefully.